


And Then Came The Rush Of The Flood

by noos



Series: TSAY - Modern AU Verse [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, established modern au verse, mostly Sansa and Gendry talking about him and Arya, prompts, tsay verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 14:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20137156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: Three times Sansa asks Gendry about his feelings for Arya and one time he has an answer.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andreamaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreamaf/gifts).

> Based on the following prompts:  
"Sansa and Gendry discussing Arya would be nice too." - andreamalarcon  
"Gendry and Sansa talking about how much they both care about Arya?" - alonsybadwolf
> 
> Title from "The Greatest" by Cat Power. 
> 
> More notes at the end.

1.

**Gendry: **We still doing drinks tonight?

**Sansa: **yep. meet me straight at barristan’s. theon hangin w/ yara so not comin.

**Gendry: **Your sister?

**Sansa:** no shift 2nite. not comin. its just you n me boo.

**Gendry: **Meet you there after my shift.

* * *

Sansa’s already half on her way to wasted by the time Gendry gets to the pub.

It’s better this way, he supposes. He knows for a fact that she’s not going to let the minor detail that he apparently knows her sister just slide that easily, but she’s a lot less subtle when she’s sloshed, so that might just play in his favour.

“Might” being the operative word here.

He’s been friends with Sansa long enough to know that she will want to talk about it and he will have to stammer out some really shady answers because he doesn’t like lying to her. But he’s also not prepared to admit to her - or anyone else, himself included - just how much meeting Arya left a mark on him, and how in the six months since they met, he spent a large chunk of time debating with himself whether or not to ask Hot Pie about her.

True to form, he’s only on his second beer when Sansa clears her throat next to him, her eyes surprisingly focused considering she’s consumed her weight in alcohol already.

“So,” she starts, smacking her lips together as she pops a cocktail cherry into her mouth. “You and my sister?”

Gendry can’t help the small lopsided smile that tugs at his lips. It’s a false sense of victory, he knows, because he’s walking right into her trap. But he can’t help but pat himself on the back for knowing Sansa so well.

“There is no me and your sister.”

Sansa rolls her eyes.

“But you _know_ her.”

“I think we’ve established that I do,” he shrugs as he takes a sip from his drink.

He stares ahead blindly, eyes dark as he tries to avoid Sansa’s gaze.

Meera and Missandei are occupied with Pod on the other end of the bar, so there’s really no one around to distract Sansa and save him from her line of questioning.

Even from his peripheral vision, he can see her cock her eyebrows suspiciously.

“How?”

That does catch him a little off guard. He twists to look at her before he can consider his actions. It’s his turn to raise his eyebrows.

“She hasn’t told you?”

“No,” Sansa answers immediately. Her mouth purses in that way it does when she’s lying and too drunk to school her features, her pupils flitting from left to right in a very telling manner. Gendry stares blankly at her. “Alright, fine,” she relents rather dramatically. “I know you slept together.”

So Arya’s told Sansa about it, then.

He mulls that thought around in his head for a few beats. He’s not sure how he feels about it.

“Then why are you asking if I know her?”

“Because I know how _she_ feels about what happened,” Sansa reasons. “But I want to know how _you_ feel about it.”

That does give Gendry some pause.

What he’s getting from this is that Arya has feelings about what happened. Which shouldn’t really surprise him because he remembers just how many opinions she had about every little thing when they first met. It’s one of the things he liked most about her; that she spoke her mind even when it made him cringe most of the time.

Does he want really to know what her feelings and opinions on _that_ night are, though? Or rather, does he need to?

For one thing, she looked downright mortified to see it was him who was moving into their building. She stood in his apartment with wide eyes, face paling by the minute. She also barely talked to him after that, content to help them move his stuff but avoiding eye contact at all times. More importantly, he hasn’t seen her since. True, it’s been only a couple of days, but still. Plus, she bailed on tonight when Sansa had been nearly sure she’d make it.

So really, he’d have to be an idiot not to get it.

Maybe he is an idiot because he asks anyway.

“How does she feel about it?”

He suspects he doesn’t sound as casual as he wants to, but Sansa’s not exactly sober enough to call him out on it.

She shoots him a wry smile instead.

“Nice try,” she commends, tipping her invisible hat with flourish. “Do you have any thoughts about what happened between you two?”

_Yes, I do. A lot of them. Mostly that I think I really like your sister. Which makes no sense because I don’t really know her that well._

But.

One. She didn’t give him her number.

Two. She bailed the next morning.

Three. She could’ve asked Hot Pie about him but she didn’t.

Four. He doesn’t need a four. She clearly didn’t want to see him again.

“Not really,” he manages, trying to keep the dejection out of his voice. He swirls the ice cubes in his drink as he turns away from Sansa. “It was a fun night. But it’s better that it stays just that. A one-time, fun night.”

He takes a sip to give himself something to do.

He can feel Sansa’s gaze boring into him, looking annoyingly contemplative. Even when she’s drunk, she’s whip-smart and sharp as hell and Gendry absolutely dreads it when all that energy and attention is directed at him.

She hums before she pops her colourful straw into her mouth.

“So you _don’t_ like her?” She asks eventually, chewing idly on the tip.

Gendry swirls the melting ice at the bottom of his glass again.

“I don’t know her well enough to like her.”

It’s a part-truth.

He still hates lying to Sansa.


	2. 2

2.

“That was some kiss.”

Gendry groans from his slump on the park bench, shielding his eyes from the sun.

He’s not sure whose idea it was to go to the park today. Probably Sansa’s, or maybe his. If he strains his brain hard enough, he can remember who texted whom, but he’s barely gotten any sleep the past couple of days so he doesn’t have the energy to go through all that trouble.

If doesn’t really matter whose idea it was anyway because neither of them could’ve known it would be so hot. It’s never this goddamn sunny in Storm’s End, angry grey clouds perpetually hovering over the region, the skies always teetering on the edge of torrential rain.

Not today, though. Today, the sun shines blindingly everywhere, illuminating every little corner of the city. The sweltering heat is almost stifling, bringing back to mind Gendry’s time at King’s Landing.

He shuts his eyes tight, not in the mood to be thinking about Flea Bottom right now. He’s never in the mood for that, if he’s being honest.

He wipes his forehead idly, groaning when his palm is met with sweat. Even in the airiest shirt and cotton shorts, he’s still way too sticky and way too sweaty and way too slippery.

The heat makes him want to gnaw his own skin off.

It’s even more infuriating because next to him, Sansa looks like she just stepped off a photo shoot. She pretty much always does, he’s gotten used to that, but no one’s allowed to look this comfortable when the sun is literally inflicting scorching torture on the human race.

She’s humming some tune next to him, her sunglasses sitting prettily on her nose, her bright yellow sun hat and red and white polka-dotted dress the perfect portrait of summer.

Then there’s the matter of the kiss Sansa just very casually mentioned.

Here’s the thing about that. When he and Melisandre broke up, Gendry imagined scenario after scenario of them getting back together. Of her coming back to him and telling him it was never about the money and always about him, of her promising she’d love him even if he was piss-poor and back in Flea Bottom.

It’s all shit, really, he knows that. But that’s not the point.

The point is, he also spent hours imagining what his reaction would be, should any of these highly unlikely scenarios ever occur.

Would he push her away immediately? Would he welcome her back with open arms and pick up right where they left off, no matter how sick that made him? Would he take his sweet time and get back to her when he’s ready?

Whatever it was, he figured it was something he would think about for days. Weeks. Months. And maybe even years, if they got back together.

What he never could’ve imagined was that Melisandre would slip from his thoughts so quickly after seeing her for the first time in what feels like decades. Or that his mind would be preoccupied with another girl the entire time, and another pair of lips, and another pair of eyes.

Arya had kissed him. Again. In front of all their friends.

Which brings him back to Sansa’s question.

“What if it was horrible?” He muses, trying to distract her. “What if it was too wet, or she sucked too hard, or one of us had bad breath? You weren’t a part of it, you don’t know that it was _some kiss_.”

He waves his hands around to emphasise his (useless) point.

Sansa raises her eyebrows.

“We’re talking about kissing my sister here so let’s just please be glad I wasn’t part of it,” she grumbles before sending a sickeningly sweet smile his way. “All I’m saying is it looked like a good kiss.”

Gendry sighs, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe at his brow.

“She was just helping me out,” he reasons, more for his sake than Sansa’s.

Because she was. She said so herself.

He settles back and puts his feet up on the bench in front of them. Sansa does the same, propping her unnaturally white sneakers next to his feet. She hums again, watching him with that look that tells him she’s analysing every single move he makes.

It sets him on edge.

“I know,” she allows eventually. “But still, it was awfully considerate of my sister. I didn’t know she was so ready to offer a pair of helping lips.”

Gendry rolls his eyes in annoyance, telling himself it’s the heat that’s getting to him.

“Whatever you’re trying to say, Sansa, just say it,” he snaps.

Maybe it comes out a little _too_ aggressive.

He regrets it immediately, eyes apologetic when he turns to her. She doesn’t seem phased in the slightest.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think she would do that for anyone.”

“I’m not anyone,” he argues, because he’s at least sure of that much. Regardless of his feelings or what he personally wants, he knows that he and Arya have become close. “I’m her friend,” he insists. “I’m sure she would’ve done the same for Theon or Hot Pie. I would do the same for you.”

Sansa grins lightly. But then her face sobers up, eyes serious when they meet his again.

“So you felt nothing?”

Gendry mulls over her words for a few seconds. He felt plenty. He’s still feeling plenty. But—

“‘Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs honestly. “She was only helping me out.”

He’s thankful when Sansa doesn’t push.


	3. 3

3.

He’s not expecting company when she knocks on his door that night.

It’s been a weird couple of weeks, the whole ordeal with her and Theon and then his… thing with Arya. Or rather, the breaking off of his thing with Arya.

Truthfully, he’s not exactly sure what to call it, but it doesn’t really matter because the gist of it is that they’re not really talking anymore. So it’s been a complicated few weeks, trying to readjust to a norm he didn’t even realise wasn’t the norm anymore. One that didn’t involve the constant presence of Arya Stark in his life.

He’s idly going through his Netflix list – Mya’s account because he’s a leech – and contemplating starting that bodyguard series with the actor who looks like he could be Robb’s long lost identical twin brother, when Sansa shows up on his doorstep, beer and biscuits in hand.

Neither of them is really feeling like alcohol tonight so they tuck the beer in the fridge but plop down on the couch with the container of biscuits between them, Sansa sitting squarely on the sofa as he slumps next to her. His entire lower half is lazily propped on the coffee table.

He tries to find something for them to watch but then gives up, starting a random episode of The Office as he shoves another jammy dodger in his mouth.

He feels Sansa turn to him after a few minutes. He meets her gaze, raising his eyebrows in question as she clears her throat.

“I never thanked you for helping me and Theon out,” she tells him, tucking a strand of bright ginger hair behind her ear. “This is, what, the billionth time you’ve been there for us?”

He feels himself grow warm, a little uncomfortable with the attention.

He tries to diffuse the seriousness of it with a scoff, breaking off a chunk of shortbread and popping it into his mouth to give himself something to do.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap. “You’re my friends, Theon was going through a thing.” He shrugs. “Of course I was going to do whatever I could to help.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to,” Sansa tries to argue, but he can hear the gratitude in her voice.

He manages a lopsided smirk as he looks up to meet her eyes again.

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

Sansa nods, her eyes lighting up in a way that causes his stomach to knot. He’s got the sinking suspicion that he just walked into a trap.

“I would’ve,” she agrees. “In fact, I’m about to.”

_Fuck._

He should’ve seen this coming. He really, really, _really_ should’ve seen this coming. _How did he not see this coming?_

There’s no escaping this now, but he will play dumb for as long as he can.

He creases his eyebrows in the most over-the-top confused expression.

“You’re going to help me overcome my non-existent beef with Theon?”

“Playing dumb is not a good colour on you,” she calls him out immediately, seeing through him. “Wanker.”

He’s not surprised that she does, either. Their entire friendship works because they’re never actually able to bullshit one another but can bullshit pretty much the rest of humanity together. It’s literally what bonded them when they met in university. Managing to scheme an extension for a joint class project when they barely knew one another.

“Sansa…”

She removes the container between them and sets it on the coffee table out of his reach, ignoring Gendry’s rather undignified squeak when he tries to protest around the biscuit he’s currently chewing. She scoots closer to him, taking up the space previously filled by the box of treats.

“What happened with Arya?”

Gendry’s eyes widen before he sits up straighter. He keeps his feet firmly on the coffee table, taking the time to chew and swallow before he speaks.

“Why did you take the biscuits away?”

Sansa rolls her eyes and groans.

“Gendry!”

“Sansa!” He mimics, motioning dramatically towards the container.

Sansa groans again before she grabs the biscuits and shoves the box into his lap.

She cocks her head to the side, lips curling up in a rather unamused smile.

“Happy?”

“Extremely,” he reassures, buying himself some time and shoving another shortbread into his mouth. Sansa crosses her arms, sitting up straighter and raising her eyebrows expectantly. There’s no distracting her when she gets like this. He sighs, giving in. “Shouldn’t you be asking your sister that question?”

“I did,” she answers immediately, losing some of her edge. “But it only confused the shit out of me because I thought you guys were together and she said you weren’t.”

“We weren’t together,” Gendry confirms immediately.

That was one of the few things he knew for certain.

“Glad to know you both agree on something,” Sansa mutters, clearly annoyed. “Point is, I love my sister and I trust her but there’s two sides to every story and the other side of this particular one happens to be that of my best friend. So don’t blame for wanting to hear it from you.”

Gendry sighs again, looking down at the assorted biscuits in his lap.

Sansa can be direct and downright aggressive at times, but he knows that if he tells her straight up that he doesn’t want to talk about it, she will back down in a flash.

The things is, though, part of him does want to talk about it. Because part of him is still hoping things are going to go back to the way they were before he told Arya to walk away from him and then left her alone in his kitchen. Even if they weren’t together, they were _something_. Point is, he really needs that part to get with the program and realise that’s never going to happen. That that shit’s over.

“There’s not much to say, Sansa.” He sighs. “We were friends and then we were something else and then we realised that it wasn’t working and that neither of us really wanted it to work anyway, so now we’re back to being friends.”

Sansa snorts loudly, setting Gendry on edge. He can’t stop himself from turning a pair of angry, almost betrayed eyes at her.

“I’m sorry, Gen, but this is a load of bullshit,” she shoots back, softening her tone when she notices that he seems genuinely upset by her reaction. But she ploughs on anyway. “You’re back to being friends? And you’ve seen each other how many times in the past week?”

“It doesn’t ma-“

“Because as far as I remember, a few months back I barely ever saw you without my sister, and now you two are practically never in the same place at the same time.”

Gendry interrupts her before she can say more, his voice rising a lot higher than he expects.

“What do you want me to bloody say, Sansa? You can’t bloody force someone who doesn’t want to be with you to want you!”

“I know my sister, Gendry,” Sansa insists, her temper flaring as well. “This is not how she acts when she doesn’t want to be with someone. She’s just scared.”

Gendry’s heart jumps to his throat.

Sansa might be right, but it doesn’t really matter. Arya’s reasons don’t matter. What matters is what she wants and that’s not him.

He shakes his head, willing himself to calm down.

“Scared or not, she made it perfectly clear that she wants this over, so it is,” he bites back bitterly.

“But Gen, she—“

“I don’t care, Sansa,” he speaks over her again, feeling like a right dick. He knows Sansa means well, but this whole conversation is causing him a migraine. He doesn’t want to think about Arya right now. “Look,” he tells her, trying to keep his voice level. “I love you, I really do, but if you care at all about me, you will drop this.” He doesn’t care that he’s nearly begging. “I’m done with it and you should be too.”

Sansa’s face falls, but the hard look in her eyes remains. It’s like part of her has accepted defeat, but she’s Sansa Stark and the other part of her wants her to fight until her last breath. It’s that part that takes charge once against.

“So that’s it?” She asks him sharply. “You’re just going to let her walk away without telling her you love her?” Gendry feels a stabbing pain at the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t even have to tell Sansa for her to know. “You’re just not going to be in our lives anymore?”

Sansa’s entire stance shifts to something much more vulnerable at the last sentence. He’s seen that look in her eyes before. Often, when she and Theon fought. Or that time she and Robb had that big blowout and she was sure she would never talk to her brother again.

It’s just that Gendry’s never been the one to cause her distress before. It makes him feel even guiltier.

He tries to keep his voice level to make her understand.

“I’m always going to be in your life, Sansa,” he promises. He means it. “Arya has nothing to do with that. I just—I need some space from her right now. I need to be alone.”

It’s not what he means but Sansa’s already halfway off his couch.

“Okay.”

Her voice is steady, detached.

He doesn’t even have the energy to get off the couch.

“No, Sansa—“

She shakes her head.

“It’s fine, Gendry. I’m tired and I’ve got work in the morning. Good night.”

* * *

He doesn’t get much sleep that night.

He finally allows himself to get up at 6, getting dressed and making plans with Davos and Renly for the morning.

He’s in front of Sansa’s flat an hour later, his knuckles gently tapping on her door.

Sure enough, she opens the door, her face pale and just as tired as his.

She doesn’t say anything, only stepping aside to let him into the house.

He closes the door behind him and follows her into the kitchen.

She’s barely turned to look at him again when he starts talking.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

She sighs, closing her eyes briefly.

“No, Gen.” She shakes her head. “I was a bitch and I pushed you too hard. You need your space and—“

“You didn’t push too hard,” he reassures immediately. She raises her eyebrows at him and he knows better than to continue with that train of thought. “Or you did,” he relents, mirroring the small, amused smile that plays on her lips. “But your heart was in the right place,” he adds, trying to convey the sincerity he feels. “And I don’t need space from you, just from this whole...” he trails off, not really sure what to call it.

She saves him from trying to figure it out.

“I know. I just want you both to be happy.”

His throat closes up.

He _was_ happy. Only a few weeks ago, he was really happy. He was scared, sure. Terrified, really, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yet, somehow, when it did, he still wasn’t ready for it.

“I know,” he concedes. “But you have to accept that we’re not going to be happy together.”

His voice catches on the last part and he clears his throat, trying to keep himself together. He’s been through worse. Much worse, and he got out on the other side of it. He’ll get through this one, too.

Sansa takes a step forward, and then another one, until she’s almost right in front of him. She reaches out a hand to squeeze his.

“I’m sorry,” she offers.

Gendry looks up at her, managing a small smile.

“Yeah, me too. I’m sorry too.”

He allows himself to be pulled into a hug, wrapping his arms around Sansa’s back and holding her close.

“Wanna stay over for coffee?” She asks when they pull apart.

He’s about to say yes when he hears the echo of a door opening somewhere around the house. His heart sinks to his stomach when he knows it’s Arya’s bedroom door just by the creak it makes.

He sighs.

“I should—“

Sansa shakes her head before he can finish.

“Yeah,” she reassures quickly. “Absolutely. Go.”

The smile he sends her is a little more broken than he intends.

“But maybe if you can take an early lunch today,” he adds after a moment, “we can grab a bite before my shift at the parlour.”

Sansa nods, her smile growing.

“I’ll check if Theon can join us too.”

He nods too.

“I’ll see you later.”

She waves him off before turning her attention to the coffee pot.

He walks out the kitchen, making his way to the front door and hoping he doesn’t run into Arya.

Of course he knew that was a possibility when he decided to stop by her place to see Sansa, but he was hoping that at least one of the gods would be on his side this morning.

It turns out, he’s got no such luck.

They nearly run into each other as she blindly makes her way to the bathroom, gasping in surprise when she realizes it’s him. She stops dead in her tracks, lips parting like she’s seeing a ghost.

Gendry stares back for a moment, taking in her appearance. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced than ever, but somehow she looks less burdened than usual.

He hates that he can tell that just by her posture.

“Hey,” he manages eventually.

“Hi.”

Her voice cracks. He tells himself it’s because she just woke up.

He nods to no one in particular before he walks past her and out the front door.

He tries not to think about the fact that she was wearing his shirt. 


	4. +1

+1.

“Why are you tiptoeing out of my sister’s room like a 14-year-old sneaking back into her parents’ place after a party?”

Gendry would like to think that he handles Sansa’s sudden appearance with dignity, but the truth is he grunts not unlike a surprised bull, startled out of his skin.

“Seven fucking hells, Sansa, it’s 6 in the bloody morning,” he grumbles, blinking several times to adjust to the harsh light outside his girlfriend’s bedroom.

Sansa rolls her eyes as she walks outside the corridor and towards the kitchen.

“Which begs the question: why are you up?”

“I’ve got a meeting with Davos and the lawyers. I have to drop by my flat to change,” he shrugs, rubbing his eyes as he follows her out. “Why are you up?”

Sansa throws him a glance over her shoulder.

“You know me better than to think I’m not always up at odd hours, Waters.”

He snorts as he continue to make his way to the bathroom.

“My bad.”

He hears her voice call out from the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he calls back before going into the bathroom to wash up.

The coffee is steaming and waiting for him on the table by the time he makes it into the kitchen. Sansa is sat on one of the chairs, legs pulled up and chin resting on her knees as she checks something on her phone.

She looks up when she hears him come in, dropping her phone on the table, lips spreading in a smile.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Gendry grunts again, sitting down on a chair across from her and immediately reaching for his coffee.

“Cheers,” he mumbles before taking a sip. Sansa continues to look at him with amusement, her grin growing by the second, until she’s downright beaming. He rolls his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, just say it.”

Sansa doesn’t waste a bloody minute.

“I told you she was just scared,” she gloats immediately, her eyes positively glowing. “I told you she wanted you,” she continues to singsong.

Gendry hums, trying to hide his own amusement into his mug.

“You did.”

“I diiiiiiid,” Sansa echoes, continuing to gloat. “My sister is just stubborn, is all.”

“’That why you made her think I was about to bang my sister?”

Sansa smiles smugly, arching an eyebrow.

“It worked, didn’t it?” She defends, sipping on her coffee. “The girl just needed a little nudge.”

He can’t keep the smile bottled up now, memories of Arya storming into his apartment in nothing but an oversized shirt and some socks jumping to the front.

“And you were just happy to give it to her.”

“It’s not like either of you were going to do anything about it,” Sansa points out, glaring at him. “I say she’s stubborn but you’re just as bad, you know!”

He gasps in mock offense.

“I’m _not_ stubborn.” Sansa continues to stare at him blankly. “Okay, I’m a little stubborn,” he concedes, busying himself with looking down at his coffee.

They keep quiet for a few minutes.

Then—

“You love her?”

Gendry looks up, lips parting in suprise. He finds Sansa looking at him solemnly, patiently waiting for him.

She knows the answer already, he knows, but he appreciates that she wants to hear it from him anyway.

“Yes,” he tells her without hesitation. There’s no point in trying to deny it or hide it anymore. Then, because he can, because she’s not hiding it either, he adds, “she loves me back.”

Sansa’s entire face softens for a long moment.

“She does.” She clears her throat suddenly, dropping her legs to the floor and pushing the chair closer to the table. “Look, Gen, I know my sister,” she continues after a beat. “She’s difficult and downright infuriating and she will drive you mad. But. When she loves, she loves fiercely.”

“I know,” Gendry reassures quickly.

Sansa shakes her head, swallowing thickly before she speaks next.

“I lost her once,” she murmurs, eyes pleading as they meet his. “I don’t want to lose her again.”

Gendry doesn’t speak for a long moment, nearly thrown by Sansa’s sudden change in demeanour. She’s looking at him so openly, the fear of losing yet another member of her family weighing down her every breath.

He nods, eventually, just once, and he sees her relax in front of him, her grip on her mug loosening.

His lips spread in a small grin as he tries to lighten up the mood. 

“Or you’ll use my balls as Christmas ornaments?”

She barks a small, surprised laugh, eyes nearly disappearing into her face.

“Of course.” She pauses for a few seconds, smiling at him. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“You won’t,” he reassures immediately, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest.

Before he can say anything else, he hears the echo of a door opening somewhere in the flat. Arya’s door.

Though he’s a little surprised she’s up at this hour, he’s not in a rush to run away this time, grinning to himself as he hears the soft pattering of her socked feet as she looks for him around the house.

She grumbles unintelligibly when she finds them around the kitchen table, rubbing her eyes and making her way over to them.

“Why are you up?” Sansa asks her.

“Gendry’s alarm went off,” she mumbles, dropping his phone on the table in front of him before she plops down on the chair next to his.

His eyebrows push together as he reaches to check the time on his phone.

“My alarm doesn’t go off for another ten minutes,” he tells her, watching as she shuffles her chair closer.

She reaches for his coffee and takes a sip, nose wrinkling at the bitter taste. She takes sugar in hers, he doesn’t. She continues to pull her knees up on the chair, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Bed’s too cold without you,” she mumbles sleepily, closing her eyes as she hands him back his coffee.

Gendry feels a warmth spreading in his chest. He wraps an arm around her, dropping a kiss to her hair. 

Sansa hides her smile in her mug.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a head's up to say I won't be taking any more prompts/requests for this verse. I'm so incredibly happy that everyone's still so invested in this, but I already have too many prompts and don't want to keep adding to the list because I'm inspired to write other things too and I want to pull on that thread while i'm feeling it. 
> 
> Don't worry, I still have a very long list of prompts to write, so you'll still be getting plenty more stories from this verse. <3


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